<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Like a Shepherd by Maverick</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179939">Like a Shepherd</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick'>Maverick</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:42:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Another look at the night before the morning after.</p>
<p>AKA: Joe and Nicky debrief and make some decisions about Booker.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>139</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Like a Shepherd</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577257">That Long Journey</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick">Maverick</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from Rumi: <i>Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal. Walk out of your house like a shepherd.</i></p>
<p>Thanks to Pollitt for beta, for providing inspiration, for her extensive beer knowledge,  for not allowing me to defy the physics of hand holding and for being able to translate what I'm really trying to say.  (And you know for answering frantic texts from me at work where I ask questions like, "what's another good way to torture someone." )  Basically, thanks for everything P.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicky stopped at the bedroom door, bracing his arms against the frame and just took a moment to admire Joe. He hadn’t bothered to get fully dressed after their bath. He looked comfortable in his boxers and sleeveless t-shirt, curls at the back of his head still wet. He was sitting lotus style on the handmade faux sheepskin rug they purchased a few years back and was bathed in the firelight from their fireplace. </p>
<p>Nicky walked over to Joe and ran his fingers through those wet curls.  He looked down at his love and gave him a rare full smile. “While I do enjoy sitting across from you at a campfire, I have to say I’m not opposed to a soft fluffy rug in front of our fireplace.</p>
<p>Joe tilted his head back and smiled back up at Nicky. “They both have their appeal but my ass is decidedly warmer here,” Joe said with a wink. </p>
<p>Nicky leaned down for a quick kiss before he walked over to the bench at the end of their bed and shimmied out of the jeans he’d put on earlier. </p>
<p>Joe gave a wolf whistle. </p>
<p>“Stop that.” Nicky turned and settled on the rug facing Joe, mirroring his position. He looked down at the spread of food between them.  “I see you worked your magic to get us our post-mission fish and chips.” </p>
<p>“Popped open a Chimay Premiere for us to share as well.” Joe said as he handed Nicky the bottle. “Also left a couple butter tarts on the counter for Andy and Nile if they get up for a midnight snack.” The nothing for Booker was left unsaid. </p>
<p>Nicky took a swig and closed his eyes. “Have to say this is also better than most of the wines we consumed around campfires.” </p>
<p>Joe laughed. “You just love it because it’s brewed by monks and profits go to help people in need.” </p>
<p>Nicky passed the bottle back to Joe, who took a swallow. “That does make it taste that much better.  Are we going to eat these fish and chips or just watch them get cold?”</p>
<p>Joe pushed the paper bag towards Nicky and then reached over to the ledge of the fireplace. “Almost forgot. Your malt vinegar in a separate container for dipping.” </p>
<p>Nicky took the container from Joe’s hand. “You are too good to me, my love.” </p>
<p>“Never,” Joe said, grabbing a piece of fish. </p>
<p>Nicky took his piece of fish and dipped it into the vinegar and took a bite. It was still so hot it burned his tongue. “Did you have these delivered?” </p>
<p>Joe handed Nicky the bottle of ale to soothe his burnt tongue. </p>
<p>Joe nodded. “Sort of. I ran into Molly from next door when I was making the food run earlier. She starts Uni in the fall, so I gave her a 100 quid and asked her to pick up and deliver the fish and chips for me and told her to keep the change. She texted me when she was at the front door.” </p>
<p>“How is she old enough to go off to Uni?” Nicky asked, grabbing another piece of fish. </p>
<p>Joe finished chewing the chips in his mouth. “We’ve owned this place for nearly 20 years, my love. Molly’s family has lived next door for ten. Luckily, we are not here enough for anyone to question why we both still look so dashingly young.” </p>
<p>Nicky shook his head and picked up a chip. “I’ll give <i>you</i> dashing, but I hate to break it to you caro, we met long after we were young.”</p>
<p>Joe laughed and stole the chip from Nicky’s hand. “You wound me.” </p>
<p>Nicky glared as Joe chewed the chip. “Do that again and I’ll take back the dashing part.” </p>
<p>Joe picked up another chip and fed it to Nicky.</p>
<p>They each took another piece of fish and passed the beer back and forth and ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. As important as it was for them to have family dinners as a team after a mission, this tradition was just as important. Whether across a campfire or in front of a fireplace, they took the time to share a meal just the two of them. In the last 50 years or so, those meals always included chips--or as the Americans call them, french fries--Nicky never really showed a preference for most foods, but he loved the salty crispness of french fries. And his reaction to tater tots was nearly obscene. Joe made sure to surprise him with those whenever possible. Nicky took care of everyone else, so it was nice to be able to indulge him sometimes. </p>
<p>“Did you get everyone sorted?” Joe asked. </p>
<p>Nicky nodded and grabbed the last chip before answering. “Nile is settled. I redressed Andy’s wounds and forced her to take some paracetamol with codeine.”</p>
<p>“How did you manage that?”</p>
<p>Nicky looked sheepish. “I may have used what you call my <i>don’t argue with me</i> eyes.” </p>
<p>Joe laughed and leaned over to squeeze Nicky’s knee. “Yeah, even the boss is not immune to those.” He moved the trash of their meal to the side and gave Nicky the bottle for one last swig of ale. Once the area between them was clear, Joe scootched forward until their knees were touching. He met Nicky’s eyes and asked, “And Booker?”</p>
<p>“Passed out in a chair in the lounge clutching a bottle of whiskey, so par for the course.” </p>
<p>To everyone else, Nicky’s tone and inflection would seem perfectly normal. But it was not. Nicky kept things bottled inside and Joe had made it  his mission centuries ago to give Nicky the safe space to just let go. He leaned in so their foreheads were touching. “Not par for the course. After all this time. I know you. Talk to me Nicolo.” </p>
<p>Nicky exhaled harshly through his nose. “I’m furious.” </p>
<p>Joe pulled his head back and then leaned over to kiss Nicky’s forehead. He settled back and met Nicky’s eyes. “I know, hayati. Tell me. Say it out loud.”</p>
<p>“He betrayed us. He nearly killed Andy.” Nicky let out another harsh breath. “And we would all still be having pieces carved out of us if Nile wasn’t such a kind soul.” </p>
<p>Joe nodded and met Nicky’s eyes. “And a badass.” </p>
<p>Nicky’s mouth curved into almost a smile “And a badass. I know Booker’s been depressed. I know he feels alone, but that doesn’t give him the right to offer us up as lambs to slaughter. I don’t think I’ve felt anger this bone-deep since that first betrayal in Jerusalem when my brethren —supposed men of God— turned out to be greedy savages.” </p>
<p>That’s what Joe was afraid of. Nicky was the most forgiving soul that he knew, but disloyalty cut him deep. “I’m sorry. I know how betrayal hurts you.” </p>
<p>Nicky placed his hands on Joe’s knees, letting Joe’s warmth seep into his body. “It’s not just that. I didn’t see it coming.” </p>
<p>Joe cocked his head. “Why would you? </p>
<p>“I’m the caretaker, my job is to see the long view and I missed it,” Nicky said, a shadow of shame crossing his face. </p>
<p>Fuck that, Joe thought. This was not on Nicky. Or Andy. Or any of them. It was all Booker. “In your defense, we hadn’t seen him in a year.” </p>
<p>“That should have been a clue,’ Nicky said, voice even more quiet than normal. </p>
<p>“With Booker? Not necessarily. We never let him wallow and the only thing he likes better than wallowing is his whisky. We invited him to visit. It’s not the first time he stayed away,” Joe said, placing his hands over Nicky’s on his knees. </p>
<p>Nicky met Joe’s eyes. “How could he do that to us? To Andy? We’re his family, Yusef. Did he give you a reason?”</p>
<p>Joe smiled. It was good to be so well known. He hoped Nicky found comfort in that as well. “You knew I talked to him?” </p>
<p>“Of course. We are predictable men in our old age.” </p>
<p>“He said that Copley linked Jean Pierre’s cancer with his own wife's disease, and he thought our <i>condition</i> might do some good. He said he just offered himself up at first and it all spun out of control.”<br/>
</p>
<p>Nicky frowned. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.” </p>
<p>Joe swept his thumbs along the edge of Nicky’s hands in what he knew was a soothing manner. “Did you think it would?”</p>
<p>Nicky nodded. “I had hoped it would temper my anger. But it just pisses me off more. We saw him through Jean Pierre’s death. We made sure his descendents were taken care of and he still fucking betrays us.” </p>
<p>“I know. Lui è proprio un bischero.”</p>
<p>“I would have died for him,” Nicky paused, hurt muting his eyes. “But apparently he couldn’t live for us.” </p>
<p>Joe squeezed Nicky’s hands. “I know Nicolo. There’s the rub. What do you want to do? As in all things, I’ll back your play. You want to carve his liver out with a rusty spoon, I’ll hold him down.  You want him dancing the macarena across hot coals for a decade, I’ll start humming the tune. You want him exiled for a millenia, say the word.”</p>
<p>Nicky snorted out an unexpected laugh. Joe was the only one who could make him laugh like that, even when he thought it should be impossible. “Rusty spoon? I thought you gave up the penny dreadfuls last century?” </p>
<p>Joe shrugged. “It seemed an apt image after today. You tell me what you think his penance should be?”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure. I know the depth of my anger is on me, but he exposed us, he shot Andy and I had to watch you be cut up. Even if the good doctor didn’t use a rusty spoon, it was still horrific. And while the macarena option has appeal, I fear it would be more torture for us than Booker.”</p>
<p>Joe brought one of Nicky’s hands up to his mouth for a kiss. “What can you live with? Close your eyes and give me your gut reaction”</p>
<p>Nicky followed Joe’s instruction. He opened his eyes and met Joe’s. “One hundred years?”</p>
<p>Joe nodded. “Okay. I’ll ask for double that.” Joe made his living as a merchant for many years, if there was one skill he maintained over the millennium, it was the ability to barter. </p>
<p>“Yusef,” Nicky said. “I can’t ask you to do that.”</p>
<p>Joe let go of Nicky’s hands and leaned forward to place his own on Nicky’s shoulders. He massaged them gently, thumbs sweeping up and down Nicky’s neck. “Did you ask? No, we will bargain together. I’ll gladly play the hardass.”</p>
<p>Nicky closed his eyes and just let himself relish what Joe was trying to do. He opened his eyes and looked directly at Joe. “What can you live with?</p>
<p>“Ten seconds less than you,” Joe said with a tone that brooked no argument.  “Okay Booker is sorted. What about Copley?” </p>
<p>Nicky shook his head and let out a deep sigh. He stood up and reached out his hands to pull Joe up and flush against him. He nuzzled his nose along Joe’s jaw. “I can’t. Enough for today. Let’s sort Copley out in the morning. Right now, I just want to crawl into our bed together and be held by you. I want the steady beat of your heart against my back to lull me to sleep.”</p>
<p>“That can be arranged. Dammi un bacio.” </p>
<p>Nicky tipped his head up and met Joe’s lips with his own. “Sei la mia vita. Grazie per amarmi così tanto.”</p>
<p>“Thank <i>you</i> my love. You get into bed. Let me take care of the trash and the fire and I’ll join you,” Joe said, kissing Nicky’s temple. </p>
<p> Joe slid into bed a few minutes later, quickly molding his front to Nicky’s back. He snaked his arm across Nicky’s waist until his hand rested against his love’s heart. He pressed a kiss to Nicky’s shoulder.</p>
<p>Nicky shuddered and then giggled. He threaded his fingers with Joe’s hand against his heart.  “Your hair is still damp, Joe. I cannot wait to see the epic bedhead that will bloom in the morning.” </p>
<p>“If it will make you smile, my love. I’ll wear it with pride. Sleep now.” </p>
<p>“Buona notte,” Nicky said, letting the solid presence of Joe behind him help him find peace. </p>
<p>“Sogni d’oro,” Joe whispered against Nicky’s ear. They still had Copley to deal with in the morning, but Joe felt much better having a solid plan in place for Booker. Joe could admit that it was going to hurt to exile Booker, but there had to be a price. Booker might never see his immortality as a gift, but he would learn what it meant to not be surrounded by the people who walked that same line. Those people, this team -- they were the real gift and hopefully time away would help Booker learn to appreciate that. </p>
<p>Time would tell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Translations</p>
<p><i>Lui è proprio un bischero.</i> – He’s an idiot.<br/><i>Dammi un bacio.</i>  – Give me a kiss.<br/><i>Sei la mia vita </i> -You are my life.<br/><i>Grazie per amarmi così tanto</i>  - Thank you for loving me so much.<br/><i>Buona notte </i> - Good Night<br/><i>Sogni d’oro </i>  - Golden dreams (Sweet dreams)</p>
<p>Yes, the ale that Joe and Nicky share is actually brewed by Monks and proceeds given to those in need.<a href="https://chimay.com/us/"> Chimay Brewery </a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>